


this could be the start of something new

by softirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low
Genre: I KNOW i relaly need to update the office, M/M, mixed with an office au, train buddies au, what am i doing anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pushes past throngs of tired-looking businessmen to get into the last carriage, looking around for some seats. He’s not the only one who’s had that idea, clearly, as the last carriage is nigh-on full and Calum has the choice of two seats – one next to a balding man who’s eating what looks to be a tuna sandwich (Calum balks at the very idea) and a tattooed-up-to-hell punk kid with a shock of light pink hair in a suit, jacket on his lap. Calum goes for the latter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Week One

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW I KNOW IT'S BEEN SO MANY MONTHS I'M AN AWFUL PERSON i've had so much work honestly i think my school staff are all vying to be the second coming of satan 
> 
> anyway its here now ive been writing this for months and i've only got this far but i know where it's going and i KNOW i have to update the office and i will soon i promise i've got a new laptop now so i can actually write things which is nice 
> 
> (also listen the title i refuse to apologise hsm is genius)
> 
> anyway how have we all been its been so long i hope everyone is doing well its time for my usual Please Talk To Me On [Tumblr](http://irwinsvibes.tumblr.com) campaign

Calum Hood is late (again).

And it’s really not fair, because he hadn’t been late at first. He’d left the house on time for the first time in a very long time, but he’s already had to turn back home twice because he forgot first his briefcase and then his phone. This has resulted in a flurry of _fuck, fuck, shit_ and various other muttered curses as he runs up the steps to the station, wondering if he’ll still make his train.

It’s already at the platform, and Calum has to full-on sprint to make it to the doors on time (and even then barely makes it, the doors almost decapitating him as they close).

He pushes past throngs of tired-looking businessmen to get into the last carriage, looking around for some seats. He’s not the only one who’s had that idea, clearly, as the last carriage is nigh-on full and Calum has the choice of two seats – one next to a balding man who’s eating what looks to be a tuna sandwich (Calum balks at the very idea) and a tattooed-up-to-hell punk kid with a shock of light pink hair in a suit, jacket on his lap. Calum goes for the latter.

He sits himself down gingerly on the seat next to the kid, who ignores him in favour of his book ( _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ , Calum notes with approval) and settles down for a short, quiet journey, only flicking a few tentative glances at the punk kid’s tattooed hands when he turns the page. Calum’s never been an artist but he’s always been one to appreciate good art and tattoos, controversial as they may be to some, are still art, still tell a story. Calum finds himself wondering what significance the SOULMATE that’s stamped on the guy’s knuckles has.

He’s jolted out of his sleepy daydreams by the punk kid accidentally hitting his knee with his _really fucking heavy_ briefcase as he stands up.

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry,” the kid says, forehead creased in a worried frown. “You hurt?”  

“Nah, s’alright,” Calum says, waving the kid’s apology away and standing up because _shit_ , this is his stop. “This is my stop anyway.”

“Cool,” the punk kid grins, gesturing for Calum to get off the train first. Calum nods his thanks and the kid smiles again, his eyes lighting up and crinkling a little at the corners, and Calum smiles a polite goodbye and goes on his way, up the stairs, through the barrier, onto the streets of London and into his office.

He needn’t have worried about being late. The only person who arrives at the office earlier than Calum is Ashton (and a few of the eager, overenthusiastic young traders that haven't had the remnants of their souls stamped out of them by the merciless banking system yet).

“Alright?” Ashton asks, chucking a paper aeroplane at Calum. Calum doesn’t even bother ducking, because Ashton’s got fingers as nimble as an arthritic elephant and any creation of his is going to be terrible no matter what. He’s right; the aeroplane doesn’t make it past Ashton’s desk.

“Not bad,” Calum says. “You need to learn to make better paper aeroplanes.”

“I know,” Ashton groans. “Luke refuses to teach me.”

“What a surprise,” Calum says dryly, setting his briefcase down and turning his iMac on. “Maybe you should ask someone who _isn’t_ a total workaholic.”

“You want me to walk up to HR and ask Jack?” Ashton says doubtfully. Calum rolls his eyes and throws himself down on his chair, spinning around a few times just because he can. Before he has a chance to reply, however, Luke walks in, setting his briefcase down on his desk and beaming at Ashton and Calum.

“Good morning!” he chirps. Ashton throws Calum a look, a _how can someone be this cheerful this early_ look; one that Luke elicits from him a lot (along with _damn I want to fuck you right here on this desk_. Calum tends to ignore that one). Calum throws him a shrug back. “How are you both?”

“It’s Monday, what do you think?” Ashton mutters. “Where’s Alex?”

“Here,” a voice says, and Calum looks up from where he’s been doodling on his notepad to see Alex walking in, briefcase in hand. Calum hates briefcases. They remind him of being an adult and he’d had a bad experience with that punk dude’s one this morning.

“I hate briefcases,” he informs the assembled crowd.

“That’s nice,” Alex says mildly. “I’m away on Wednesday-”

“Does Jack from HR happen to be away on that day too?” Ashton mutters under his breath. Calum snorts.

“-so I need someone to cover for me. Ashton?”

“No thanks,” Ashton says immediately.

“I’ll do it,” Luke says.

“No surprises there,” Ashton mumbles.

“I’m glad we have such a good team spirit,” Alex says sarcastically, sitting down in his chair.

“It’s hard not to, when we have you as our glorious leader,” Ashton says. Alex flips him off as he fires up his iMac, not even looking up from the screen. Professionalism’s not really been an issue in their department since Alex replaced old Mr. Briggs as boss.

“UK shares look like they’re going to drop today,” Luke comments as everyone starts to ready themselves for the day’s work.

“God save the Queen,” Calum says, and Ashton laughs.

“We’ll have to see what we can do,” he says, and Calum grins. Sometimes, Mondays aren’t all that bad.

-

His Monday is not at all bad by any means. He sells a few shares at steep profit, then decides he’s had enough and goes home, leaving Ashton (who’s made nothing but losses since he can’t stop staring at Luke and keeps getting in just a second too late) muttering curse words at him as he walks out and attempting to hit him with paper aeroplanes.

Calum’s Tuesday gets off to a marginally better start than his Monday. For one thing, he’d packed his briefcase the night before and double-checked that he had everything on him, then left it in front of his bedroom door so when he inevitably tripped over it in the morning he’d remember that _hey_ , actually, he kind of needs to take his briefcase to work. He still manages to forget his phone, however, but that only means turning back once rather than twice and he ends up on the platform earlier than the day before.

It’s apparently still not early enough to get a seat, though, since he ends up forcing his way through to the back carriage again. Like Monday, Calum has the choice of the punk kid in a suit or an overly large lady who’s taking up half of the ‘empty’ seat. He goes for the punk kid again, sitting down next to him with a half-apologetic smile. The punk kid smiles back at him, then goes back to reading his book. Calum sneaks a peek as he’s picking out Ashton’s daily report from the briefcase between his legs and sees it’s still Dorian Gray, and that the boy (man? Guy? Calum can’t really put an age on him) is at the part where Dorian kills Basil. Nice.

Calum makes a start studying his report, looking at the figures and Ashton’s little comments – sometimes intellectual but mostly _man, why am I writing this report when I could be having a nice bacon sandwich_ – and figuring out his game strategy for the day. He’d looked at the stocks this morning when he’d woken up (of course – it’s his job, that’s the first thing he does when his alarm goes off) and he’s starting to formulate a plan in his head of what he wants to buy today, what he wants to sell, when he wants to buy and when he wants to sell.

“Hey,” the punk kid says, jolting Calum out of his _will I make a profit will I make a loss_ mindset and back to reality. “This is our stop.”

“What? Oh,” Calum says, gathering his report together quickly and shoving it in his briefcase as he stands up. “Thanks. Sorry.”

“No problem,” the punk kid says. “After you.” Calum smiles and walks off the train, taking a moment to make sure all the sheets of the report are properly stuffed into the front pocket of his briefcase before following the crowd up the stairs, through the barrier, onto the streets, into the office.

“Morning,” Ashton says when Calum walks in, feet up on his desk.

“Why are you always the first into the office and the last to leave?” Calum asks, shaking his head as he puts his briefcase down and fires up his computer. Ashton scowls.

“No need to rub it in, alright,” he says.

“It’s quite a feat to be here before Workaholic Number One,” Calum says, sitting down heavily in his chair. Luke chooses that exact moment to walk in, and Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“Speak of the devil,” he says. Luke blinks at him.

“I read your report,” he says, in the tone of someone who has something else to say but doesn’t want to say it.

“Yeah?” Ashton says with a wistful sigh. “Never did get that bacon sandwich.”

“Where’s Alex?” Calum asks.

“Here,” Alex says, walking in and slamming his briefcase down on the desk, making Calum jump and wince. Calum really hates briefcases.

“I really hate briefcases,” he tells everyone. They all ignore him.

“Why is our boss always the last one in?” Ashton says, addressing nobody in particular.

“I’m right here,” Alex says, turning his computer on. “You don’t have to talk about me in third person.”

“Alright,” Ashton says, swivelling in his chair to face Alex. “Why are you always the last one in?”

“Because I have the most self-respect and self-love out of everybody in this department,” Alex says. “Nice report, by the way. Much more entertaining than Calum’s.”

“I didn’t write a report,” Calum says.

“Precisely,” Alex says, and Calum watches Ashton frown as he figures out whether Alex just complimented or insulted him. “Morning, Luke.”

“Hey!” Ashton protests. “Why does Luke get special treatment?”

“Because I actually _like_ him,” Alex says, spinning around in his chair. It’s making Calum feel dizzy just to watch. “Let’s go, boys.”

-

Come lunchtime, Calum’s still not made much money – a few hundred pounds at most. It’s frustrating him, because he should be doing better – Luke’s using pretty much the same game plan as him and he’s made a few thousand already – he just keeps doing the same thing as Ashton and coming in just a split second too late.

Alex tells the two of them to take a break at one and not come back until they feel up to it, and Ashton and Calum all but sprint out of the office. They bump into Zack Merrick the intern on their way out and nearly make him spill the three cups of coffee he’s trying to balance, and then they’re outside. Ashton tilts his head up towards the weak sunlight filtering through the clouds, letting his eyes flutter shut. He’s not really been on his best form recently.

“You alright?” Calum asks after a while.

“Mhm,” Ashton says. “Kind of- kind of hard to concentrate in there, sometimes.”

“Would it help if we moved Luke somewhere else?” Calum’s only half-teasing – if Ashton carries on the way he’s going, the company are going to make huge losses and Ashton will probably end up losing his job.

“Fuck you,” Ashton sighs. “No. I’d be thinking about him more if I didn’t have him right in front of me.”

“Well, shit, there’s not much we can do then,” Calum says.

“What about you?” Ashton asks, opening one eye and looking at Calum. “Why are _you_ so off your game today? You’re using the same strategy as Luke, right?” Calum sighs and nods.

“Must have slept badly or something,” he says. “One of those days.”

“Mm,” Ashton says, letting his eyes slip shut again. “One of those days.”

-

The good thing about trading in London is that after they take over from Tokyo, who are eight hours ahead, it’s only five hours until New York steps in. They really get the best end of the deal, actually, since by two or three most of the trades are going via New York and they can all breathe a sigh of relief, pack up and go home. Calum leaves ten minutes after he comes back from his journey outside with Ashton, too distracted to do anything that will be beneficial. Alex watches him go with a shrewd look on his face, one that Calum’s grown accustomed to and grown accustomed to hate, but he shoves it out of his mind and goes home, reads through the many emails Ashton’s sent him throughout the day ( _Penis Enlargement,_ is the subject of one. Calum sends him one back that just says _really? REALLY?_ because Ashton had definitely seen the nude of Calum that an ex-colleague had sent around the whole office).

Wednesday rolls around, and Calum forgets his phone again. He doesn’t have time to turn back and get it, though, so he just powers on and tells himself he’s not going to need it for the day. He sits down next to the punk kid on the train again because the other man has a tuna sandwich (again), smiling at him and receiving a smile back before they both settle down into their respective routines. Punk Kid pulls out Dorian Gray and un-dog-ears a page and Calum checks where he’s got to as he pulls Ashton’s half-hearted report out of his briefcase. Punk Kid’s reached the consequences on Dorian of Sybil’s death.

Ashton’s early-morning report on the overnight stock market changes gives Calum two ideas for how to work the day out. He’s just about to pull his phone out and look at the stocks right now, see which way Google looks like it’s going to swing today, before he remembers he hasn’t got his phone on him. Fuck.

“Uh,” he says, and Punk Kid looks up. “I’m sorry, this is really…um, can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure,” Punk Kid says, lifting his hips off the seat ( _Christ_ ) and fishing a battered old iPhone (even better; he won’t have to Google it) out of his back pocket. He unlocks it and hands it to Calum without question, which makes Calum frown. If it were him, he’d want to know exactly what a stranger wanted to do with his phone and he’d be pretty jumpy about handing it over.

Whatever, though. It’s not his phone. 

Calum pulls up the stock market app – thank God for iPhones – and sees Google’s gone up since Ashton’s report, but not by much. Could be worse.

“Thanks,” he says, handing the phone back to Punk Kid, who grins and pockets it again.

“Trader, huh?” he says. “Not the kind of job I would have assigned you.”

“Oh?” Calum asks. “What _would_ you have assigned me?”

“I was thinking, like,” Punk Kid says, “bigshot at a record label, or something. Maybe a band manager.” Calum snorts.

“Definitely not,” he says. “Anyway, if we’re going for music industry jobs, you’d be first up. You’d be the one in a band.”

“Yeah?” Punk Kid says. “You think I could rock the boyband look?”

“Definitely,” Calum says. “You, Billie Joe Armstrong and Tom Delonge could rival One Directon.” Punk Kid looks surprised.

“You have good taste,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“How else am I meant to make trading enjoyable?” Calum asks, and Punk Kid grins. “How about you? What’s your real job?”

“Accountant,” Punk Kid says.

“Don’t people…” Calum trails off, unsure how to word _aren’t people apprehensive of your use of your skin as a canvas slash pincushion_ in a way that isn’t offensive.

“My tattoos?” Punk Kid asks with a grin, eyes twinkling with a kind of mischief. Calum’s not sure what to make of that. “Oh, yeah. They usually don’t go down well. Neither does the hair, but whatever. Nothing’s as fun as making old ladies scream, right?”

“That could so easily be misconstrued,” Calum says, and Punk Kid laughs.

“What about you?” he says. “D’you have any tattoos?”

“Uh, a few,” Calum says. They’re lame as fuck in comparison to Punk Kid’s extensive body art.

“You’ll have to show me some day,” Punk Kid says, standing up. “Our stop.”

“Yeah,” Calum agrees, standing up and moving out into the aisle to give Punk Kid space to shrug his suit jacket on. It’s strange seeing him with his jacket on, because without the faint outlines of colour visible through his flimsy shirt he looks almost respectable.

(The hair, the eyebrow piercing, the lip ring and the hand tattoos kind of fuck that up, though.)

-

“Don’t move,” Ashton says when Calum walks into the office. Calum obeys, standing still in the doorway. “I got Rian from IT to teach me how to do paper aeroplanes, and I want to see if it works now.”

“Rian?” Calum asks, raising an eyebrow. “I thought he was halfway sensible.”

“I may or may not have bribed him with the promise of Zack the intern’s number,” Ashton says, finishing up his paper aeroplane with a flourish.

“Do you even _have_ Zack the intern’s number?”

“I will soon,” Ashton says, throwing the aeroplane at Calum. It actually makes it past Ashton’s desk this time, but still lands a metre or two short of Calum. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Better luck next time,” Calum says, walking over to his desk and sidestepping the aeroplane.

“Morning,” Luke says, walking into the office. He bends and picks up the paper aeroplane, tossing it in the bin.

“Morning,” Ashton says. “What’s that?” Luke blinks, then looks down at the mysterious white-wrapped object he’s carrying.

“Oh,” he says, “um. You, uh. You said you never got a bacon sandwich, so.” He hesitates for a moment before thrusting it at Ashton, who takes it with wide eyes.

“Luke,” he says carefully. “Is this a bacon sandwich?” 

“Um,” Luke says. “Yeah. I made it this morning, so. Sorry if it’s a bit cold.”

“You _made_ it?”

“Should I not have?” Luke says, sounding a little anxious. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Luke,” Calum says reassuringly. “You made him a bacon sandwich. In Ashton’s world, that’s pretty much synonymous to a proposal.” Luke flushes and averts his gaze, but Calum doesn’t miss the tiny, tiny smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m in love,” Ashton declares, unwrapping the bacon sandwich and sniffing it. “With this bacon sandwich,” he adds hastily.

“Sure,” Calum mutters, turning on his computer. “With the bacon sandwich.”

(Ashton throws the wrapping at him.)

-

Calum and Ashton take a break at eleven-thirty.

“Fuck,” Ashton sighs, tipping his head back against the wall of the building. “Fuck, Cal. He made me a bacon sandwich. He _made me_ a bacon sandwich. A _bacon sandwich_.”

“Stop with the verbal italics,” Calum says. “I know he did. I was there.”

“What, whilst he made it?”

“Yes,” Calum says in a bored tone, knowing it’s going to get ignored anyway. He’s right.

“Do you think he look hot when he cooks? I bet he does. Imagine his tongue doing that thing where it pokes out of the corner of his mouth a little bit when he’s concentrating, and his little frown-“

“Okay,” Calum says loudly. “I get it. You want to suck Luke’s dick.”

“Yeah, and do other more romantic stuff,” Ashton says, opening his eyes and looking up at the sky. “Take him out, and stuff. Kiss him. A lot.”

“Jesus Christ,” Calum mutters. “I’m going back inside.”

“Call me when Luke stops being so adorable,” Ashton says, and he sounds so forlorn that Calum can’t help but slip an arm around his waist and give him a quick hug on his way back inside.

-

Calum wakes up late on Thursday and has to rush _everything_ in order to make his train. He sprints up the steps and onto the train and narrowly makes it, pushing through the other harassed-looking businessmen to get to the back carriage. Punk Kid’s got an empty seat next to him and Calum walks over gratefully without even looking to see whether there are any other spare seats. Punk Kid’s like, his train buddy now, or something.

“Morning,” Punk Kid says. “Ready to tackle Thursday?”

“Depends,” Calum says, shoving his briefcase under the seat in front of him with a long-suffering sigh. “My two colleagues are basically flirting themselves to death and killing me in the process.”

“Ouch,” Punk Kid says.

“Tell me about it,” Calum says. “I’m tempted to choke one so the other has to give them mouth-to-mouth. I’m tempted to choke one of them regardless of whether the other will give them mouth-to-mouth, actually.”

“Rough week?” Punk Kid asks with a grin.

“I guess there’ve been worse ones,” Calum says. “How about you? Good week so far?”

“There’ve been worse ones,” Punk Kid echoes, and Calum grins.

“Boyband not going well?” he asks.

“We were trying to go for a new rap-metal style,” Punk Kid says. “Didn’t work out.”

“Shame,” Calum says. “Back to crooning songs at twelve-year-olds, I guess.”

“All my dreams are alive,” Punk Kid says sarcastically, and Calum snorts. Three people turn to glare at him.

The two of them lapse into silence then, until Punk Kid nudges his knee and whispers _our stop_ at him and Calum looks up in surprise, putting his phone back into his pocket and getting up.

“See you tomorrow,” Punk Kid says as they file off the train, and Calum echoes it as Punk Kid walks off.

Train buddy, definitely.

-

**_Ashton_ ** _  
Is a bacon sandwich JUST a bacon sandwich or is it more_

**_Ashton_ ** _  
I mean like does he just want to give me a bacon sandwich or does he want to give me something else_

**_Ashton_ ** _  
Like maybe his body_

Calum rolls his eyes and shoves his phone back into his pocket, not bothering to reply since he’s just about to walk into the office.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Ashton says accusingly as soon as Calum walks through the door. “I was asking you _serious question_ s.I went through the ordeal of nearly accidentally sending them to Luke and you didn’t reply.”

“I didn’t realise bacon sandwiches had such a hold over your heart,” Calum says, putting his briefcase down on his desk and turning on his computer.

“They do when they’re attached to cute boys,” Ashton says.

“Speak of the devil,” Calum says, as Luke walks in.

“What?” Luke says. “What are cute boys attached to?”

“Ruining my life,” Ashton sighs. “I’m over. I’m done for. Who’s going to be able to replace me in this department when I inevitably die of heart failure from Cute Boy being cute?”

“Should we start holding interviews now?” Calum asks innocently. Ashton scowls at him. 

“Where’s Alex?” Luke asks loudly, reminding them both that he’s here too.

“Right here,” Alex says.

“Do you literally lurk outside the door and wait for one of us to ask where you are to come in?” Ashton asks in disbelief. Alex flips him off. “How was your romantic getaway?”

“A lot better than being cooped up in the office with you lot,” Alex says.

“Tell me about it,” Calum says. “Luke made Ashton a bacon sandwich yesterday.” Alex stops what he’s doing and looks over at Luke, stricken.

“Oh, no,” he says. “No, no, no. You should _not_ have done that, Luke Hemmings.”

“Why?” Luke says, sounding nervous.

“Because it means Ashton’s going to want to suck your dick more than eve-“

“Alright!” Ashton says loudly. “How about we stop the whole make-fun-of-Ashton thing for today, yeah?”

“For now,” Alex agrees, throwing Calum a look that says _we need to talk about them_. “Let’s go.”

-

Alex denies Ashton a break at the same time as Calum and goes out with Calum instead, claiming Luke needs looking after.

(“Why?” Ashton asks in disbelief. “He’s the most well-behaved out of the lot of us.”

“Well, maybe Luke’ll rub off on you, then,” Alex says.

“Is that a double entendre?” Ashton yells as Alex and Calum walk towards the lift and scaring the life out of poor Zack the intern who’s walking past. “I don’t appreciate literary devices like that!”)

“How bad is he?” Alex asks when they get outside. Calum sighs, fidgeting a little. He knows Alex wants what’s best for Ashton, but he also needs to do what’s best for the company and he can only ignore Ashton being off-form for so long without having to talk to him, maybe give him some time off work.

“Pretty bad,” he admits. “His losses have been high this week. And last week. And the week before.”

“I know,” Alex says uncomfortably. “D’you think they’ll ever- y’know? I mean, I’d push Ashton, but I don’t want to push Luke.”

“I don’t know,” Calum says helplessly. “I could- I could talk to Luke? Tell him that Ashton likes him back?”

“You think he’d listen?” Alex asks doubtfully.

“He’s more likely to than Ashton,” Calum says. Alex laughs humourlessly.

“I hate this,” he says. “This is like some fucking rom-com. We’re meant to be emotionless traders, not sensitive matchmakers.”

“I know,” Calum says, and Alex sighs, leaning into Calum and putting his head on his shoulder as they stare out at the suit-clad people of London hurrying past.

“Why can’t love be easy?” he says.

“Trouble in paradise?” Calum asks. It’s no secret that Jack from HR and Alex have been doing _something_ for a long time, but nobody knows exactly how serious their relationship is.

“Trouble in my own head,” Alex mumbles under his breath, and Calum’s not sure whether he was intended to hear it or not so he settles for putting his arm around Alex and pulling him in closer.

-

Friday morning starts with a text from Ashton.

**_Ashton_ ** _  
Alex told me to take the day off_

**_Ashton_ ** _  
To wank_

Calum snorts.

**_Me_ ** _  
Really_

**_Ashton_ ** _  
No literally he told me to wank it off over a long weekend and come back on Monday with my head screwed on properly_

**_Me_ ** _  
Then what are you doing awake at 7am_

**_Ashton_ ** _  
…Starting my recommended course of treatment_

Calum wrinkles his nose.

**_Me_ ** _  
You disgust me_

Calum makes it out of the door on time and doesn’t forget _anything_ , so he’s pretty pleased by the time he pushes his way through the tired-but-clinging-on-because-it’s-finally-Friday businessmen and sits down next to Punk Kid in the last carriage.

“Morning,” Punk Kid says, looking up from his book to smile at Calum.

“Morning,” Calum says.

“Glad it’s Friday?” Calum snorts, raising his eyebrows as he puts his briefcase down between his legs.

“You can say that again,” he says. “Yourself?”

“I guess,” Punk Kid says. “How are your two colleagues? The ones who keep flirting?”

“One of them’s been given leave,” Calum says, and Punk Kid snorts.

“That bad?” he asks. Calum grins.

“Can’t afford it, in our line of business,” he says, and Punk Kid inclines his head, conceding.

“I have to admit, it sounds a lot more exciting and rewarding than accounting,” he says.

“Really?” Calum says, mock-surprised. “Accounting not all about the bitches and the money?” Punk Kid laughs.

“I’m more about the dudes and the money,” he says, and that, that makes Calum happy, makes a warm feeling spread from his heart to the tips of his fingers like an electric shock and he doesn’t really know why.

“Yeah, same,” Calum says, trying to make it nonchalant but knowing he’s blushing and angling his face away from Punk Kid and his voice doesn’t sound casual at all and _fuck_ , what’s his problem? Flirting’s never been this difficult before.

( _Is_ he flirting?)

“Oh,” Punk Kid says, grinning. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” Calum says, smiling shyly. “Cool.”

They don’t talk again for the rest of the journey, and maybe it’s a figment of Calum’s imagination but he’s pretty sure when Punk Kid nudges him and whispers _our stop_ to him, his lips get a little closer to Calum’s face than strictly necessary.

-

The office is strangely quiet without Ashton in the morning, and Calum finds himself stopping just for a moment as he walks through the door, expecting a paper aeroplane to fall at his feet. Nothing comes, of course, and he walks past Ashton’s empty desk with his stomach twisting in a less than pleasant way.

“Where’s Ashton?” is the first thing Luke says when he walks in.

“Good morning to you too,” Calum mumbles, but Luke’s so busy staring at Ashton’s empty desk as if it’ll make him appear that he doesn’t even hear it.  “Alex told him to take the day off.” Luke frowns.

“Why?”

“Because he needed it,” Alex says, breezing in.

“There’s no way you heard that,” Calum says in disbelief, and Alex winks at him before sitting down and spinning around once in his chair. Luke’s still stood up, still staring at Ashton’s empty desk in a half-forlorn manner, and Calum has to resist the urge to take a picture and send it to Ashton because _honestly_ , when will they get their shit together?

“We’ll have to work extra hard today, since our favourite team member is off,” Alex says.

“Or not,” Calum mutters, because they’ve been working pretty much without Ashton for the past few weeks. Alex throws him a glare, and Calum raises his eyebrows but subsides.

“When will he be back?” Luke asks anxiously. “Is he okay?” Alex grimaces.

“Let’s hope he will be,” he says.

-

Alex goes out for a ‘smoke break’ at five past one (he doesn’t even smoke. The only thing going in his mouth at this time is Jack from HR’s dick), leaving Luke and Calum alone in the office.

“Hey,” Calum says gently, when Luke’s distracted drumming on the table starts making Calum’s ears ring somehow. “You alright?”

“What?” Luke says absent-mindedly. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, fine. I’m fine.”

“Really?” Calum says, injecting as much doubt as he possibly can into his voice so Luke will actually pick up on it. Luke blinks and then sighs, slumping back in his seat in the process.

“It’s weird without Ashton, isn’t it?” he says.

“Quieter,” Calum agrees.

“Yeah,” Luke echoes sadly. “Quieter.” Calum sighs this time, swivelling around in his chair so he’s facing Luke.

“Look,” he says. “I’m all for letting nature run its course and all that, but this is getting ridiculous.” Luke looks startled, like a deer in the headlights, like he doesn’t know what Calum’s talking about. “You and Ashton,” Calum clarifies, and Luke tenses.

“I-“ he starts, clearly trying to think of some denial. Calum’s not having any of that.

“I know you like him,” Calum says, and Luke blushes and averts his gaze. “He likes you back. You need to sort something out with him before his work goes even _more_ downhill.”

“He- he likes me back?” Luke says, eyes wide. “Did he tell you? What did he say?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Calum says, grinning at the shocked smile that’s slowly creeping onto Luke’s face. He looks fucking adorable.

“Are you _sure_ he likes me?” Luke says.

“Yes,” Calum says.

“Like, you’re not just _saying_ that, are you?” Calum rolls his eyes.

“ _No_ , Luke,” he says, exasperated. “Why would I want to fuck up our work _even more_ by breaking your heart?”

“Oh,” Luke says, and Calum realises he could have put that in a more sensitive way. It doesn’t really matter, though, because the blissful, happy grin is back on Luke’s face. “He likes me. Oh.”

“Yeah,” Calum mutters, turning back to his work and suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “ _Oh_.”


	2. Week Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It leaves Calum free to think about the events of the past week, however. He’s not sure what to feel about what he feels about Punk Kid, which is confusing and makes him unsure about what to feel about what to feel about what he feels about Punk Kid. He’s very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEVEN MONTHS ok i know its terrible but honestly its summer now and i have loads of work to do but ill try and update more often <33 
> 
> ALSO ive been writing the new chapter of the office so that will be A Thing

Calum thinks this weekend is a well-deserved one.

He spends half an hour watching porn on Saturday morning and then immediately feels disgusting for doing that and takes a shower, which makes him feel ready for the day. Ashton texts him more lurid details about his ‘sick leave’ (which _is_ sick, but not in the conventional way) so Calum blocks his number and brushes his teeth determinedly for five minutes as if it’ll take his mind off it.

He spends all of Saturday and Sunday finishing off reports on the ’87 crash that Alex wanted him to complete for some unknown reason and emails them off, adding a PS on Ashton’s email that simply has the aubergine emoji on it. Ashton emails him back twelve exit signs he’s taken off Google Images.

It leaves Calum free to think about the events of the past week, however. He’s not sure what to feel about what he feels about Punk Kid, which is confusing and makes him unsure about what to feel about what to feel about what he feels about Punk Kid. He’s very confused.

He likes Punk Kid. He’s funny, he’s got good taste in music and he’s been nice to Calum the few times they’ve spoken. If Calum were a braver soul, he might ask Punk Kid on a date. But on the other hand, it’s only been five days. He knows _nothing_ about Punk Kid, not even his name or his age, and he’s pretty sure it’s a little weird to ask people out with that level of knowledge about their lives. Also, Calum doesn’t really want to lose his seat on the train next to Punk Kid if he fucks up their date, or whatever.

He decides he’s going to play it safe. It’s weird to like someone in that way after five days anyway, right?

Before he can answer that rhetorical question, Calum’s phone buzzes with a text. Irritated that his wonderful, mature thought process has been interrupted, he lifts his hips and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

**_Luke_ ** _  
Heyy Calum :)_

Calum narrows his eyes. The last thing he needs right now is Mr Goody-Two Shoes and Sir Wankalot to impose their love lives on him.

(Then again, Luke is Calum’s colleague and half-friend and a very sweet person who has covered for Calum on many occasions at work.)

**_Me_ ** _  
Hey, you alright?_

**_Luke_ ** _  
I got your report. It was really interesting :)_

Calum snorts. If anyone except Luke had said that, Calum would have told them to fuck off, but Luke probably _did_ enjoy reading about the crash.

**_Me_ ** _  
Thanks kiddo. That can’t be why you messaged me, though._

**_Luke_ ** _  
I’m not that young :( No, it wasn’t._

**_Me_ ** _  
It’s a matter of relativity, Hemmings. You’re practically a newborn to me. And let me guess – Ashton?_

**_Luke_ ** _  
You’re nicer at work, Hood :( Yeah…I hope you don’t mind? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to? It’s nothing urgent_

**_Me_ ** _  
Yeah, because the stock market means I need to keep my mouth shut and concentrate. No, we can talk. What do you want to talk about, though?_

**_Luke_ ** _  
I want to tell him that I like him, but I don’t know how :(_

**_Me_ ** _  
How about you go up to Ashton and tell him you want to suck his dick as much as he wants to suck yours?_

**_Luke_ ** _  
He wants to suck my dick?_

**_Luke_ ** _  
That’s gross, Calum :/_

**_Me_ ** _  
Fooling nobody, Luke._

**_Luke_ ** _  
I tried :( I’m just too nervous that he’s going to turn me down_

**_Me_ ** _  
Don’t push yourself if you don’t feel comfortable but you have to take a risk_

**_Luke_ ** _  
…So which half of those two contradicting parts of advice should I take_

**_Me_ ** _  
Fuck you Hemmings_

**_Luke_ ** _  
:(_

**_Me_ ** _  
xxx_

-

Monday arrives with Calum sleeping through three alarm clocks and only waking up at the horrible banshee sound of the fourth, the _dress, grab something professional-looking and leave_ one. Calum does just that, swearing as he pulls on socks and shoes and the suit he’d left on the chair next to his bed, and rushes out of the door with five minutes to go until his train pulls in at the station.

He sprints all the way and manages to make it _just_ as the doors are closing, shoving his briefcase in to the annoyance of everybody on the carriage and pushing past them all to the back, scanning the crowd of black and white for a shock of light pink hair.

There isn’t one.

But there _is_ a shock of electric blue with an empty seat next to it.

“You changed your hair,” Calum says, when he sits down. Punk Kid looks up from his book and grins.

“Yeah,” he says, “you like it?”

“Yeah,” Calum says. “You look good.” He feels himself blush after saying it and isn’t entirely sure why, because he tells Ashton that he looks good on a daily basis and doesn’t bat an eyelid. Punk Kid smiles.

“Thanks,” he says, and maybe it’s just a trick of the light but there seems to be a faint hue of pink to his cheeks too.

“What’re you reading?” Calum asks, and Punk Kid shuts the book, keeping his place with his finger and showing Calum the front cover. It’s Mrs Dalloway.

“Isn’t that the one where she keeps comparing men to cauliflowers?” Calum asks, and Punk Kid laughs.

“It’s not as good as Dorian Gray, I’ll admit,” he says, and Calum grins.

“How do you find time for all this amongst the accountancy and the rap-metal boyband?” he asks.

“Anything’s possible if you believe,” Punk Kid says, with the same kind of twinkle in his eye that Jack from HR has when the third-floor toilets mysteriously go out of order again. Calum opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by a loud “Calum?” from down the carriage. Calum looks up in surprise to see Ashton making his way down the carriage, pushing past businessmen with a huge smile on his face and not as much as an ‘excuse me’.

“What are you doing here?” Calum asks in surprise. “You’re usually at the office by now.”

“I had to have one more go at Alex’s remedy,” Ashton says happily, and Calum wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Thanks for the information,” he says.

“Well, you asked,” Ashton says defensively.

“Oh,” Calum says, turning to Punk Kid, because obviously Ashton doesn’t know that Punk Kid and Calum are kind of friends so won’t offer an introduction. “This is Ashton, by the way. I work with him.”

“Nice to meet you,” Punk Kid says, nodding at Ashton. “I’m Calum’s train buddy.” A smirk finds its way onto Ashton’s face.

“You have a train buddy?” he asks Calum. “A _hot_ train buddy?”

“Um,” Calum says, because he neither wants to confirm nor deny this fact. Also, Punk Kid just called himself Calum’s train buddy. They’re _train buddies_.

“Thanks,” Punk Kid says, grinning. “Always nice to meet a fan.”

“Well,” Ashton says brightly, “this is our stop. See you, Calum’s Train Buddy.”

“It’s his stop too,” Calum says, and then changes his mind. “Never mind, never mind, we’re leaving, Ashton, we’re going. See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he manhandles Ashton out of the door.

“See you, train buddy,” Punk Kid says, and Calum’s _definitely_ not had enough sleep because he thinks he hears a hint of fondness in his tone.

-

“Calum has a _train buddy_ ,” Ashton announces as soon as they push open the door to the office. Luckily, only Luke is in. He looks up when Ashton walks through the door, then frowns when Ashton opens his mouth.

“Ignore him,” Calum says, scowling at Ashton as they both sit down at their desks. “He’s dehydrated.”

“A _train buddy_ with _blue hair_ who’s _really hot,_ ” Ashton says pointedly, and Calum throws a water bottle at his head.

“You…you think he’s hot?” Luke says in a small voice. Calum groans.

“Morning!” Alex interrupts before anybody can say anything else, breezing into the office without his briefcase or anything vaguely professional-looking.

“Where’s your stuff?” Ashton asks, frowning. Alex looks down at himself in surprise, as if he’s only just noticed he’s come all the way to work without anything he needs to bring, before groaning.

“That bitch,” he mutters, and heads straight back out of the door. Ashton, Calum and Luke watch him go in silence, and then turn back to each other.

“So,” Ashton says, swinging his legs up onto his desk at an angle that looks extremely uncomfortable and facing Calum. “Your train buddy.”

“His _hot_ train buddy,” Luke mutters petulantly. Calum sighs and kneads his temples.

It’s going to be a long day.

-

Alex pulls him out for a break at midday, shouting at Luke and Ashton to please _talk_ about their problems whilst they’re gone or he’ll have to temporarily fire them both and he does _not_ want to sit through another Luke job interview because the first time was bad enough.

“What happened in Luke’s job interview?” Calum asks curiously as Alex drags him outside by his sleeve.

“It was a catastrophe,” Alex mutters darkly. “I had to convince Briggs that he’d be a suitable replacement for Patrick Stump just by his file. Which, to be honest, was outstanding.”

“Why him, if it was so bad?”

“‘Cause Ashton couldn’t take his eyes off the boy the moment he walked into the office,” Alex says, pushing Calum out of the door before him. The biting wind hits Calum and he shivers involuntarily, stepping back against the wall as if it’ll help him get out of the way of the open air.

“I spoke to Luke at the weekend,” Calum says. “I told him Ashton likes him and he said he was too nervous to make the first move.” Alex groans.

“I’m going to suffocate the pair of them,” he says determinedly. “And you? What’s this about your train buddy?” Calum wills himself not to blush.

“It’s just some guy I sit next to on the train every morning,” he says. “It’s no big deal, honestly. He’s just a nice guy.”

“Just a nice guy, huh,” Alex says, a smirk creeping onto his face. Calum doesn’t like that look.

“What about _your_ nice guy?” he says, and the smirk vanishes in an instant.

“He’s a nice guy,” Alex says carefully after a moment’s hesitation. “But I don’t think _I’m_ a nice guy. A nice guy deserves a nice guy, not someone who’s going to be not a nice guy.” Calum’s definitely going to buy Alex a thesaurus for his birthday.

“Did something happen?” he says slowly. Alex avoids his gaze and shrugs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Calum says. “Can I go back inside now?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, sighing. Calum squeezes his arm on the way back inside, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek for good measure. Alex is just one of those people who needs to constantly be reminded that he’s loved.

Calum’s so preoccupied with his thoughts that he bumps into Jack from HR on his way up the stairs, making him drop all his papers down multiple steps.

“Oh, shit,” Calum says, dropping to his knees and scrambling to pick up the pieces of paper he can gather. “I’m so sorry.”

“What? Oh,” Jack says, sounding a little distracted, which is unlike him. Calum frowns.

“You alright?” he asks, handing the last bits of paper to Jack as he gets to his feet. Jack smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I will be,” he says.

“Okay,” Calum says, unsure how far he can push it. He doesn’t know Jack that well, after all – only really knows him through Alex at all, actually. “You, uh. You wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” Jack says. “Thanks, though.” He sounds genuinely grateful.

“No problem,” Calum says. Jack smiles again, and Calum lets him past before traipsing up the stairs to the office.

-

Calum wakes up on time on Tuesday, meaning he’s able to breakfast before he gets on the train and is therefore in a considerably better mood than usual.

“Morning,” Punk Kid says when he sits down, smiling at him. Calum grins back, remembering that Punk Kid is his train buddy. “No Ashton today?”

“Let’s hope not,” Calum says. “Still on Dalloway?”

“Oh, no,” Punk Kid says, looking a little sheepish. “I gave up.” Calum snorts.

“I don’t blame you,” he says. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“I haven’t got anything,” Punk Kid admits. “Any suggestions?”

“Harry Potter?” Calum says jokingly. Punk Kid shrugs.

“I’ve never read it,” he says, and Calum gapes at him.

“Seriously?” he says. “I’m pretty sure that’s heresy.” Punk Kid laughs.

“Fine, I’ll read it,” he says. “Just to see what all the hype’s about.”

“From Dalloway to Potter,” Calum muses.

“What a descent.” Calum throws Punk Kid a mock-glare.

“You won’t be saying that in a week,” he tells him. Punk Kid grins.

“Maybe not,” he says, nudging Calum’s knee gently and nodding out of the window. Their stop. “I guess I should trust my train buddy’s judgement.” Calum feels an odd thrill burn through his veins at that, almost like adrenaline, which is completely ridiculous because all Punk Kid had done was call them _train buddies._ Calum really needs to get laid.

“Damn right you should,” Calum says as they get off, and he thinks his words might have been lost in the crowd but he catches the tail end of a smirk on Punk Kid’s face as he starts off towards the escalators.

-

“Stop,” Ashton says when Calum walks in, holding up one hand but not looking up from the paper aeroplane in his hands. “I have it perfected this time. This one is _definitely_ going to hit you.”

“Really now,” Calum says dryly. “Just like the last one you had perfected which was _definitely_ going to hit me and didn’t make it past your desk?” Ashton scowls and flips him off.

“There,” he says happily, finishing with a flourish.

“Go on,” Calum says, folding his arms and dropping his briefcase in the process. He kicks it in the general direction of his desk and waits. Ashton carefully smooths out the wings of the paper aeroplane and draws his arm back, throwing it at Calum with an expectant look on his face. It makes it all the way to Calum’s feet, which might be a first, but doesn’t make contact with his body.

“For fuck’s sake,” Ashton mutters under his breath, as Calum steps over the paper aeroplane, picks up his briefcase and goes to sit at his desk.

“Did you ever get Zack’s number?” Calum wonders as he turns on his computer, remembering last week’s conversation.

“You wanted Zack’s number?” Luke says, voice small, and both Ashton and Calum look up to see him standing in the doorway.

“For Rian,” Ashton says quickly. “So he would teach me to do a good paper aeroplane.” There’s a pause.

“What?” Luke sounds more confused than upset now.

“Where’s Alex?” Calum asks, wanting to change the subject before Ashton tries to explain why he thought bribing Rian from IT with Zack the intern’s number would be a good idea.

“Here,” Alex says as he walks into the room, slamming his briefcase down on his desk with a little more force than strictly necessary. Luke jumps, Calum winces and Ashton mutters a string of curse words.

“What’s got into you?” Ashton demands.

“Nothing,” Alex says. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Calum says, giving Ashton a pointed glare when he opens his mouth indignantly.

His department is a _mess_.

-

Calum’s just debating whether to take his lunch break now or in half an hour when there’s a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Alex says, surprised. Usually, nobody disturbs them whilst they’re working. The door opens, and Jack walks in.

“Uh, can I borrow Calum?” he says, carefully avoiding Alex’s gaze. Calum feels Alex’s gaze slide onto him, suspicious and confused. As far as he knows, Calum and Jack have never had more than small talk. In fact, Calum and Jack _have_ never had more than small talk.

“Sure,” Calum says, locking his computer and standing up. “I’ll take my lunch break now.”

“Okay,” Alex says uncertainly, and Calum gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he picks up his briefcase and walks out with Jack.

They don’t talk until they’ve made it down the stairs and down the lift to the ground floor, swiping their cards at the exit and walking out into the fresh air.

“This is about Alex,” Calum says, not questioning, just stating. Jack sighs and nods.

“Walk with me,” he says, and the two of them set off.

Calum’s always liked the City. It reminds him of a campus university, only this one is of bankers and traders and stockbrokers and lawyers and they go out on a Thursday night, not on a Friday or a Saturday. It’s clean and it’s safe and it feels professional, and Calum usually enjoys walking around its winding streets and back alleys. Today, though, he’s too preoccupied with Ashton and Luke and Jack and Alex to enjoy it.

“I guess you know me and Alex have, uh, have a bit of a thing?” Jack says finally, when they’re approaching the Bank of England, and Calum nods. “I, um. I asked Alex out, officially, and he said no.” Calum frowns.

“Why would he do that?” he asks.

“Because he…he’s scared,” Jack says. “Of like. Being with a boy. He’s straight, you know.”

“But-“

“I know,” Jack says. “He says I don’t count.”

“Of course you count,” Calum says automatically. “You count as the exception.” Jack smiles wistfully.

“I mean, I get it,” he says. “But we’ve been…we’ve been _this_ for so long, I just thought we could finally be _that_.”

“I can see why he’d be scared,” Calum says slowly. “This must be why he’s been so miserable recently.”

“He’s been miserable?” Jack asks, sounding surprised. Calum frowns at him.

“Yeah?” he says. “He tries to hide it, but there’s a reason he’s a trader, not an actor.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “I- I thought he didn’t care.”

“What?” It’s Calum’s turn to sound surprised. “He cares more about you than anyone else. He’s been so torn up lately.”

“Oh,” Jack says again, but he sounds a little happier. “Well.”

Calum’s thinks he might need to get a PHD in Drama to understand everything that’s going on in the lives of the people around him.

-

Calum doesn’t want to get up on Wednesday.

After Calum had told Jack that Alex cared a ridiculous amount about him, Jack had seemed a little happier, although still pretty down. They’d walked back to the office without getting any food and Jack had grown steadily cheerier all the way, until he had that old twinkle back in his eye that made Calum think about Punk Kid for a fleeting moment. Calum had warned him not to destroy the third-floor toilets again, and Jack had loudly proclaimed that Calum’s wish was his command and kissed him on the lips as a goodbye before bounding off to the lift for floors one to three with a wink. Calum knows for a _fact_ HR is on the fifth floor but had let it go, shaking his head and walking back into his own office where an anxious Alex had been waiting for him. Alex hadn’t asked him anything, although he’d opened his mouth as if he was about to a few times, but had hovered by Calum for the rest of the day.

Ashton and Luke _still_ haven’t spoken about their issues either, apparently, and when Wednesday dawns and all of this hits Calum again he decides he’s going to call in sick. Then he remembers that he won’t see Punk Kid if he doesn’t go into the office, so he drags himself out of bed and out of the house with great difficulty.

“You look happy,” Punk Kid says when Calum sits down next to him heavily.

“I’m having the worst week,” Calum says melodramatically.

“It’s only Wednesday,” Punk Kid says lightly, but he’s got a worried frown on his face. “What’s up?” Calum bites his lip.

“It’s a long story,” he says, not wanting to bore Punk Kid by whining to him.

“As long as you can get it in before Cannon Street,” Punk Kid says, and Calum sighs.

“Ashton and Luke still haven’t talked about anything and it’s driving me crazy, watching them eye each other up all the time and not focus on their work and to add to that my boss has just turned down the man he’s been sleeping with for the past ten years as a boyfriend because he’s straight and scared to be with a boy,” Calum says, all in a rush. “And yesterday the guy he’s been with talked to me about it and I can’t tell my boss because it’s none of my business really, but I don’t want him to let the fear win and go find a girl to fuck or something because that will break the guy he’s been with’s heart, and honestly I just want to get some trading done and earn my keep but I can’t because everybody’s got ridiculous love lives that I’m somehow involved in despite not having a love life of my own. And on top of all that, Ashton promised Rian from IT that he could have Zack the intern’s number if he taught Ashton how to do a good paper aeroplane and Ashton still hasn’t got Zack the intern’s number.” Punk Kid blinks at him.

“Wow,” he says. “Trading sounds fun.” Calum laughs, but it’s kind of bitter and kind of regretful because he probably really shouldn’t have burdened Punk Kid with all this.

“Tell me about it,” he says, sighing.

“I’m sorry that you’ve got all this going on,” Punk Kid says after a moment. “I mean, there’s not a lot you can do but wait most of it out, really. It’s shitty that they dragged you into it.”

“I know, but I’m kind of glad they did?” Calum says. “Like, I’d rather they weren’t alone, y’know? Anyway, it’s not like I offered any constructive advice.”

“There isn’t much advice to offer,” Punk Kid says. “They sound like they have a pretty complicated relationship that only they would understand.” Calum raises his eyebrows, because Punk Kid’s pretty much hit the nail on the head. “Anyway, we’re here.”

“Thanks for listening,” Calum says as the two of them stand up. Punk Kid smiles.

“You don’t deserve to be alone either,” he says, before he’s swallowed by the crowd of black and white.

-

“Can I talk to you?” Alex says around lunchtime. He’s been anxious all morning, jumping when Ashton pressed his spacebar too loudly, eyes darting around the room as if waiting for someone.

“Why doesn’t anybody ever want to talk to me?” Ashton complains.

“I want to talk to you,” Luke says quietly, and then immediately blushes. Calum stares at him for a moment, then rolls his eyes in exasperation and walks out with Alex.

“Is Jack okay?” Alex doesn’t even wait for them to get down the stairs before asking.

“Are you?” Calum counters. Alex shakes his head, but it’s not an answer to Calum’s question, more a movement of frustration, trying to get Calum’s question out of the way.

“Did he say something?” Alex asks as they step into the lift.

“It’s not my business to tell, Alex,” Calum says. Alex sighs, and he sounds so helpless that Calum puts out an arm and pulls him into a quick hug.

“You need to be talking to him,” Calum says, “not me.”

“I’m scared,” Alex mumbles.

“He knows,” Calum says. “He is too.” Alex sighs again.

“Later,” he says. “Not now.”

Calum knows that ‘not now’ means ‘as long as it’s avoidable, it’s not happening’, but he doesn’t push it.

-

Calum’s Thursday morning starts off quite well, as mornings go for Calum.

He wakes up on time, he showers, he gets dressed, he has breakfast and he leaves with plenty of time to spare. He _strolls_ to the station and still makes it with three minutes to spare. All in all, it’s a good morning.

That is, until he gets on the train.

There’s no shock of blue hair sat in an empty seat at the back of the last carriage. In fact, there’s no shock of blue hair at all. Nor is there a shock of pink hair, or green hair, or yellow hair, or purple hair, or whatever colour Punk Kid might decide to go next. He simply isn’t here.

Calum doesn’t even bother walking all the way to their usual seats, which look eerily empty, but sits down next to the Tuna Man instead, hoping the putrid smell will cleanse him from all these stupid, unreasonable sad feelings that Punk Kid isn’t here today.

-

“Stand still,” Ashton says immediately, not even looking up as Calum pushes the door open.

“Not _another_ paper aeroplane,” Calum says in exasperation.

“I’m trying a new style,” Ashton tells him. “This one is more streamlined.”

“Good, so it might actually hit its target,” Calum says. Ashton scowls.

“You’ll deserve it when it does,” he says confidently, and throws the paper aeroplane. It sails over Calum’s head and hits the door behind him, where it crumples and falls to the ground.

“You should put a crumple zone in,” Calum tells him.

“Very funny,” Ashton mutters.

“Hi, Ashton,” Luke says, pushing the door open.

“I can’t believe I don’t exist,” Calum says matter-of-factly.

“And Calum,” Luke says hastily. “Sorry.”

“Hey, Luke,” Ashton says, grinning. “Is Alex in?”

“Yes,” Alex says, pushing open the door. Ashton catches Calum’s eye and they both shake their heads. It’s a _mystery_ how Alex manages to appear on command.

“Are you in a better mood today?” Ashton asks. Alex shrugs, avoiding everybody’s gaze.

“I guess,” he says. “Who’s ready to take on the market?”

“Me!” Luke says. Ashton makes the soft, wide-eyed _you are so adorable_ face that Calum’s grown to hate at him.

“You have a good time with that then, Luke,” Calum mutters under his breath as he fires up his computer and prepares himself to take on the day. It doesn’t _matter_ that he hasn’t had Punk Kid’s presence in the morning. It doesn’t. Why should it? He doesn’t even know Punk Kid’s name.

(Calum’s not very good at lying, especially not to himself.)

-

It’s been a pretty shitty day of trading for Calum, so he takes an early lunch and goes to the nearby Pret to pick up something he can eat whilst wandering around the City. He’s just dithering between a Swedish meatball wrap or a bacon sandwich when someone says “Calum?”. He turns around and comes face to face with- with Punk Kid.

“Oh!” he says. “Um. Hello?”

“Hey!” Punk Kid says, grinning like seeing Calum has just made his whole _day_.

“Where were you this morning?” Calum blurts, and then _immediately_ feels stupid for asking. Punk Kid doesn’t owe Calum any explanations. He’s only his train buddy, after all.

“I missed the train,” Punk Kid says. “Missed you, too.”

“Oh, that’s- wait, I. What? Um.” Calum can’t do anything but feel the blush creep into his cheeks. “I, uh, I missed you too. It was lonely.”

“Where did you sit?” Punk Kid asks, picking up a Swedish meatball wrap from behind Calum. Calum realises he’s still clutching the bacon sandwich.

“With the tuna man,” Calum admits, and Punk Kid laughs and then wrinkles his nose.

“Ew,” he says, and Calum nods.

“It was grim,” he says, and Punk Kid grins again. Calum likes making him smile.

“I promise I won’t miss the train again,” Punk Kid says solemnly. “Never again will you have to sit next to Tuna Man.”

“I’ll try my best not to miss the train either,” Calum says, recovering some ability to speak like a normal human being.

“Good,” Punk Kid says. “Sitting next to Tuna Man would be a fate worse than death.”

“Speaking of fates worse than death, have you started Harry Potter yet?” Calum asks. Punk Kid frowns.

“Reading Harry Potter is a fate worse than death?” he asks.

“No, no, it’s- Hermione, in the Philosopher’s Stone movie, after they’ve found Fluffy, she says- y’know what? Never mind,” Calum says.

“I haven’t started yet,” he says. “I was going to head into the library tomorrow after work and find a copy.”

“I could lend you mine?” Calum offers. Punk Kid looks at Calum for a moment, in a way that Calum doesn’t really understand, but it makes him feel like Punk Kid’s _seeing_ him rather than just looking at him. It makes his skin crawl, but not unpleasantly.

“Would you?” Punk Kid asks.

“Sure,” Calum says, shrugging. “Not like I’m using it at the moment.”

“Thanks,” Punk Kid says, smiling. “Anyway, I should probably buy this and eat it before it gets cold. You got long left of your lunch break?” Calum checks his watch. Technically, he doesn’t, but he’s pretty sure he can stretch it and Alex won’t say anything.

“Yeah,” he lies. “You want to eat and walk?”

“Cool,” Punk Kid says, grinning.

-

Calum finds out a lot about Punk Kid on their walk.

It’s only twenty minutes, because Punk Kid apparently has a hellish boss who _fines_ them for every minute they’re late (a pound a minute, which Calum thinks is extortionate and probably illegal, but Punk Kid says the system’s fair because the people that aren’t late get the money from the people who are and he’s always on time so it works out alright for him) but it’s a good twenty minutes. Calum might even go so far as to privately admit to himself that it’s the best twenty consecutive minutes of his life.

He finds out Punk Kid plays guitar and owns three at home. He finds out Punk Kid dyes his hair every week if he can, every other week if he can’t, and gives him a few suggestions (Calum’s _positive_ reverse skunk would look good on Punk Kid). He finds out Punk Kid’s single, lives with a flatmate called Matt and that he likes chocolate brownies and winter evenings, and that Christmas is his favourite holiday.

He still doesn’t find out Punk Kid’s name, but he kind of likes it that way. It would almost shatter the illusion if he found out what Punk Kid was called.

-

Calum sets an earlier set of alarms on Friday morning so he gets up with plenty of time to spare and remembers to pick up Philosopher’s Stone on the way out. It’s not so much of a leisurely stroll to the station this morning since he has to double back to pick up his phone which he’d left on the kitchen table, but it’s better than most mornings.

Punk Kid’s sat in the back of the train, and Calum feels an odd rush of relief as he pushes past Tuna Man and the other businessmen and grins at Punk Kid. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t have to sit next to Tuna Man again.

“Hey,” he says when he sits down, fishing the book out of his bag. “I brought you Philosopher’s Stone, as promised.”

“You’re too good to me,” Punk Kid says, and Calum’s glad that the sun is shining directly into Punk Kid’s eyes and making him squint because otherwise he’s at risk of seeing Calum blush yet again and Calum can’t lose his street cred at eight in the morning. “I’ll read this at work.”

“Won’t you get fined, or something?” Calum asks. Punk Kid shrugs.

“Everybody has to make sacrifices,” he says dramatically, and Calum laughs. “Besides, I know for a fact my co-worker Pete is going to be _extremely_ late today, so I’ll reap the rewards there.”

“How can you _know_ someone is going to be late?” Calum asks. “What kind of a shitty superpower is that?”

“I have my sources,” Punk Kid says, tapping his nose. “Hey, should I get a nose ring?”

“Uh,” Calum says.

“Or maybe a lip ring?”

“I’d go for lip ring,” Calum says. “I had a lip piercing.”

“Had? What happened?”

“I took it out after a day,” Calum says, shrugging. “Didn’t suit me.”

“You still haven’t shown me your tattoos!” Punk Kid exclaims, as if he’s only just remembered. “C’mon, you’ve seen mine now. Some of them, anyway. It’s only fair.”

“What, you want me to rip my jacket off and expose myself to you just so you can see my shitty tattoos?” Calum asks, grinning. Punk Kid smirks.

“I wouldn’t mind, no,” he says, and there’s an edge to his tone that Calum’s common sense tells him is flirty but Calum’s brain tells him can’t possibly be. “Fine. Tattoos another time then, yes? It’s our stop, anyway.”

“Yes,” Calum says, getting up with Punk Kid and everybody else on the damn carriage. “Hey, what does the tattoo on your-“ but Punk Kid’s already gone, swallowed up by the crowd, and Calum’s words die on the tip of his tongue.

What _does_ the SOULMATE tattoo mean?

-

“I think I should give up trading to become a full-time paper aeroplane engineer,” Ashton says when Calum walks in.

“No, see, to do that you’d have to actually be _good_ at it,” Calum says.

“I _am_ ,” Ashton insists. “You only see the worst side of it.”

“Of course I do,” Calum says, dumping his briefcase down and sitting down at his desk. “How’s Luke?”

“I’m fine,” Luke says absent-mindedly, scanning through the final pages of what Calum assumes is the report Ashton had sent last night that Calum had hurriedly skimmed on the way from Cannon Street to the office. “How are you?”

“We’re fine,” Calum says. Luke looks up at that, startled, and looks at Ashton as if he’s only just noticed he’s there. Ashton does a little wave, which Calum tries his best not to cringe outwardly to, and Luke blushes and drops the report.

“Someone mention Alex so he’ll show up,” Calum says as Luke picks up the papers scattered across the floor.

“I’m here,” Alex says, walking into the office. He looks down. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Dropped my report,” Luke mumbles, getting to his feet and walking towards his desk.

“I think I saw your train buddy today, Calum,” Alex says. “Blue hair, right?”

“Uh, at the moment, yeah,” Calum says.

“He _is_ hot,” Alex muses. Calum groans.

“I can’t believe you’re all ganging up on me like this,” he says.

“I’m not,” Luke says.

“Which is why you’re replacing Ashton as my best friend and hopefully Alex as my boss,” Calum says fervently. Luke smiles, a small smile that Calum almost misses because he turns his head away, and looks up at Ashton.

“What are the chances?” Alex says. “One department, and all of us suck dick.”

“Um,” Luke says.

“Excuse me?” Calum says.

“I _know_ , right?” Ashton says enthusiastically. 

Calum takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. The weekend can’t come too soon.


End file.
